


In the Jungle

by ami_ven



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Community: writerverse, Established Relationship, M/M, Pre-Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-18
Updated: 2016-02-18
Packaged: 2018-05-21 12:54:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6052360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ami_ven/pseuds/ami_ven
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Barton, I’m headed your way and I need cover fire <i>now</i>!”</p>
            </blockquote>





	In the Jungle

**Author's Note:**

> written for LJ community "writerverse" prompts "Amazon River" & "hope" (bonus: romance)

Phil had been on scene longer, but only Clint was dressed for the rainforest— that sharp suit might have been the way to blend in at a high-level black market deals, but it much less suitable for running through the undergrowth to escape the imminent explosion.

Not that there was supposed to have been an explosion. It was supposed to be an intel-gathering mission, Phil posing as an arms dealer to plant trackers on as many people and/or weapons as possible and Clint keeping station outside the meeting point, watching it all through the scope of his rifle. But something had gone horribly wrong.

Clint wasn’t sure what, exactly, because the first sign of any trouble was Phil yelling, “Barton, I’m headed your way and I need cover fire _now_!”

His aim was just as good with a gun as with his bow, but it didn’t take long for the bad guys to figure out his position and he had to ditch his tree-top perch just as Phil reached him. “How bad?” he asked, sliding the strap of his rifle over his shoulder to switch to his bow.

“Run,” said Phil, so Clint just passed him one of his spare handguns and _ran_.

The building exploded behind them, before they’d gotten a dozen yards away, and the blast sent them tumbling into the shrubbery. Clint grabbed Phil’s arm, twisting them so that he took the brunt of their fall, and hauling them back to their feet again.

“That bad, huh?” said Clint, and Phil just shrugged. “Okay, this way.”

When he’d been dropped into the jungle, Clint had scouted a mile radius around the weapons dealers’ building and found a few hidden places to stash supplies. He headed for the nearest one, a small crevice in some rocks, and pushed Phil inside, pulling down the half-cut branches to cover the entrance.

“Okay,” said Clint. “We should be— Sir, you’re hurt!”

Phil winced. “It’s not bad,” he protested, but let Clint peel him out of his suit jacket and dress shirt, “You just want to get me shirtless.”

“You caught me, sir,” Clint agreed, easing Phil’s t-shirt away from the wound before tugging that off, too. “Looks like it’s just a graze. Doesn’t even need stitches, but I should clean it.”

“I thought I dodged that knife,” said Phil. “But, on the upside, I dodged all those bullets.”

“And the explosion,” added Clint. “Or did you cause it?”

“Little of both. Really, it was their own fault for storing _all_ of the flammable material directly below the meeting rooms.”

“Sounds like poor planning, sir,” said Clint, coming back with the first aid kit. He was quiet for a moment, hands sure and gentle as he cleaned and bandaged the shallow cut over Phil’s ribs. After a long moment, he said, “The evac boat is gone by now.”

“Yes, they are,” Phil agreed. His t-shirt was a loss, but he carefully pulled his dress shirt back on. “And before you ask— yes, I could have made the rendezvous, Barton, but one of the weapons they were testing was an EMP and it knocked out my comm. I had no way to tell you that I was calling the op, let alone that your position was probably in the blast zone. I’ve never left anyone behind, and I’m not about to start with you.”

The archer ducked his head. “I’d never want to tarnish your reputation, sir.”

“Then drink some water,” said Phil, tossing him a canteen from the supplies before pulling out the satellite phone. “My agents don’t keel over in the middle of missions, either.”

“No, sir,” Clint said. 

He listened with half an ear as Phil called in their status, confirming that the planned evac had left and that another wouldn’t be available for at least twenty-four hours, and went through their supplies. With the men he’d taken out and the explosion, it wouldn’t be too much of a risk for him to raid the other two stashes, if they needed to.

“So,” said Clint, when Phil had turned the phone off again, “Twenty-four hours. And I’ve already got you half-naked.”

Phil snorted a laugh. “And that’s as good as you’re getting until after the debrief.”

“Aw, sir, don’t be a spoilsport.”

“I don’t see why I should stop now,” said Phil. “This place is pretty secure— we should get some rest.”

“Good idea,” Clint said, and tucked himself against Phil’s uninjured side. “ _Right_ after the debrief?”

Phil laughed. “We’ll see.”

THE END


End file.
